Page 37 of Malevolent Hearts
“It’s only a matter of time before our second trial begins. Things will change for us after that,” I say. “That’s why our fathers are doing whatever they can to remain in control. We need to take them down before they can finish what they’ve started.” Suddenly, I realise the truth about Liam’s death—it’s about a web of lies and deception that threatens to tear apart everything I thought I knew. Power is the root of evil, and the current kings will do anything to keep it.
As Rohan’s gaze pierces mine with a mix of concern and confusion, his next question hangs heavy in the air. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” he presses, his voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.
“I think it’s time to teach our fathers a lesson.”
Rohan doesn’t miss a beat, his determination shining through. “We need to make a plan. We can’t go into this blind, B,” he insists, his voice firm with resolve.
Despite the turmoil churning within me, I nod in agreement. “I’ll follow you back to the cabins,” I concede, knowing that facing my mam and Saoirse is a necessary step in seeking justice for Liam. “But first, I need to make a detour to the main house and copy the footage onto a USB drive.”
Nodding in agreement, Rohan pushes off my Range Rover with a devious curl on his lips. Then, extending his arm towards me, he offers a hand. “Ready to slay some giants, B?”
Placing my palm in his, I rise to my feet. “Born ready.”
With our fathers at the centre of the storm, we steel ourselves for the battle ahead, ready to confront the demons of our past and fight for the justice that Liam deserves.
Twenty-One
Beibhinn
The Present
Out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are, have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.
?Edgar Allan Poe
Rohan leads the way in Lorcan’s Mercedes, turning off the main road and onto the sweeping driveway that leads down to the lake. Following suit, I drop a gear, slowing Liam’s Mustang to a crawl as the gravel lane kicks up dust beneath the tyres. Realistically, my Range Rover would be better suited to this terrain, but something about driving my brother’s pride and joy makes me feel closer to him, especially when my gaze falls to the small MMA gloves dangling from the rearview mirror.
Through the open window, the familiar scent of pine and woodsmoke floods the cab, mingling with the crisp mountain breeze. When we were younger, I always envied Liam and his summer trips to the cabins with Lorcan. After each visit, he would come back rejuvenated and happier than I’d ever seen him. Most of his stories involved Saoirse, although, at that time, he never called her anything but his Free Bird, keeping her identity hidden.
It wasn’t until I got to experience my own summers with Cadden that I truly understood the reasoning behind Liam’s summer visits, and why they held such importance to him. He wasn’t the same person after those vacations stopped; he changed everything, refusing to answer to his birth name, and instead embodying his new persona of Liam Devereux. Over the years, he’d leaned into the syndicate more and more, that was until his Free Bird reappeared and brought Devin back.
Honestly, being here makes me feel closer to him.
As I pull to a stop next to Rohan, I switch off the ignition and rest my head against the back of the seat. Closing my eyes, I try to gather the strength to go inside and face my mother. I’ve been avoiding her since the funeral, mostly because I couldn’t stand the grief in her eyes. Knowing I can’t push her away forever, I tease the car door open and head for the cabin, ignoring Rohan’s watchful gaze as I hesitate with every step, prolonging the inevitable.
With a deep breath, I push open the door and step inside. Within seconds, my eyes meet my mam’s, and a myriad of emotions flicker across her face like shadows dancing in the firelight. Relief, sadness, and a hint of apprehension mingle in her gaze, mirroring the storm of feelings raging within me. The lines etched on her face seem deeper, a reminder of the pain and loss we’ve endured since we last saw each other. She’s aged a decade in the span of a few days, looking way older than her thirty-seven years.
Without a word, she closes the distance between us and envelops me in a tight embrace, the warmth of her presence is a balm for my battered soul. “Oh, thank God you’re okay. I was worried when you wouldn’t return my calls.”
“I’m sorry. I just… I needed time.”
Pulling back slightly, she grips my shoulders as she surveys my face, committing my features to memory. With a tearful nod, she draws me back into her chest. The weight of unspoken words hangs between us, a silent acknowledgement of the shared grief that binds us together. I swallow back the emotion threatening to burst through the armour I’ve spent days erecting, preferring to hide behind the barrier of anger that keeps me from fully expressing the depths of my pain.
As she holds me close, the silence speaks volumes, a language of love and loss that transcends words. The air is heavy with unshed tears and unsaid words, but in the embrace of my mother’s arms, I find a fleeting moment of solace—a fragile bridge spanning the chasm of grief that separates us, a glimmer of hope in the darkness that has clouded my heart since the day I said goodbye to Liam. Lowering my guard slightly, I offer her a glimpse of my hurt. “I miss him.”
Her chest hitches as she buries her head in my shoulder. “I know, honey. I miss him, too.”
Once we finally pull apart, my gaze snaps over my mother’s shoulder to the living room. Papers litter the rug while empty mugs decorate the coffee table, and in the midst of it all, Saoirse’s mam, Éanna, sits crossed legs in the sea of documents, muttering to herself. “Motherfuckers could be anywhere. How the fuck are we supposed to find them?”
Behind her, Rohan places his hand on her shoulder, and she jolts. Her hand flies to her chest, startled by our presence. Her attention pings between Rohan and me, and then she pushes herself to her feet. “God, I’m so sorry. I was so consumed by all this”—she tosses her hand to the mountain of paperwork—“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Did you find anything?” Rohan pries as he takes a seat on the free armchair.
“Nothing of substance. A few offshore accounts that prove Gabriel has been laundering money from the syndicate business, but nothing pointing to the explosion.”
Squaring my shoulders, I draw in a breath before pulling the USB key from my pocket. “Maybe this will help.”
“What is that?” My mother’s eyes widen.